


The L-Word

by satanic_panic



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Can't Say "I Love You", M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: There's just three little words, but you can never say them.
Relationships: John Byers/Reader, John Fitzgerald Byers/Reader
Kudos: 1





	The L-Word

"How's my favourite FBI agent?" You grinned, laying an arm across Fox's shoulders as you pressed a kiss to his temple and hummed. He could smell the coffee in the cup in your other hand as you fell into step beside him.

Fox rolled his eyes, shrugging you off as he scoffed, not quite appreciating being approached in such a way in the middle of the street. "Is this your way of asking for a ride to Byers' place?" 

"Maybe," you chuckled, taking a sip from your coffee and licking your lips, you adjusted the earbud in your ear, some old stupid classic rock love song. "I mean, it's on the way to your work, right?" 

He huffed out a harsh sigh, shaking his head and trying his best not to smile; you were head over heels for John, and in part, it was Fox's doing. "You're my oldest friend, (y/n), you've been with me for… for everything, and I love you… but I can't give you a lift." 

You raised a brow, interested and curious as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh? How come?" 

"I don't have a car at the moment," he admitted. "It's getting its MOT done, so I don't have it for a good while… how come you're so keen on seeing Byers today, anyway? I thought your date nights were strictly on Tuesdays." 

You shrugged, taking a step in front of Fox and grinning like a man who was so in love that his heart believed in nothing else. "Have you ever met anyone that made you feel as if there was no mountain too high, no river too wide, they could just call your name and you'd be there by their side? Like storm clouds can gather and storms can collide, but you'd love them until the end of time? Until your dying day? Like the world's a perfect place?" 

Fox's eyes went wide as he processed the words, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, but eventually, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded, a smile creeping onto his lips. "Is my (y/n) in love?" 

You scoffed, swigging back the remainder of your coffee before tossing it into a nearby bin and continuing to walk with Fox. "Buddy boy, you know as well as I do that I don't believe in love… but when Byers is around, I know that there's a reason the sun comes up every day… his eyes are the sweetest I've ever seen, and maybe there's a future for us - but love? Me? No." 

Fox didn't seem convinced as he raised a brow at you and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I've gotta take a left up ahead, you need to go right." 

You nodded, prepared to split from your childhood friend. "I won't say I'm in love, y'know, Fox. No man's worth that aggravation." 

Laughing, Fox nodded. "Oh, I know… you're a stubborn son of a bitch." 

"And don't you forget it!" You called as you turned right at the corner, thankfully making it to Byers' flat within mere minutes. You winced a little when you knocked on the door and realised how loud your fist was against the oak. "Morning, baby." 

John's features lit up as he immediately allowed you inside, nearly grinning from ear to ear as he stuttered to say your name, surprised and shocked but in the most wonderful of ways. "What are you doing here?" 

"I wanted to stop by," you shrugged, tugging on his tie a little, playful as you smiled. "Is that alright with you?" 

Nodding, John's features went a deep shade of red, he scratched at his beard as he tried to clear his throat. "No, yeah, yeah, no! It's, uh… it's a nice surprise, if I'm honest." 

You kissed his cheek gently, undoing his tie with quick movements. "As much as I love your suits… I can't fucking stand this tie." 

He knew you hated it, he hated it just as much, but he loved that whenever you saw him wearing it, you would take it off; he loved to have you so close, even if it was just to get rid of his awful tie. "I'll throw it out one day, I promise." That was a lie. 

You unbuttoned the first few on his shirt, laying your hand on that spot between his collarbones, you smirked when he winced at how cold your skin was. "I walked." 

"I can tell," he chuckled, laying his hand on yours and gazing at you so fondly. When you weren't around, his heart cried out for yours, howling at times to the point where he would toss and turn all night. He was in love. Deeply. "Why- why don't you sit down? I'll get you something to drink to warm you up." 

You shook your head, leading him over to the sofa; you pulled him onto your lap, burying your face against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist and sighed contently, your hands sneaking up the back of his shirt. "That's better." 

Relaxing into you, John allowed your cold fingertips to cover his back before dipping around to his chest, making his breath hitch as he realised just how cold you were; but even still, he didn't want to move, physical contact with you was the best part of any day in his opinion. But then again, to John, you were the earth and the heavens, and he almost certainly didn't keep it hidden. "I love you." 

You froze, mouth agape, eyes wide as you pulled back and swiped your tongue along your bottom lip, unsure of how to react, words failing you spectacularly. "John…" 

"You don't… you don't have to say anything," he told you, his cobalt eyes filled with such a soft gaze that it could make even velvet seem like concrete, shaking his head a little as he gently took your hands in his own. "You don't have to say anything, (y/n)." 

Your stomach was in knots, thin layers of tissue tugging and yanking one another as you swallowed thickly; you had been in relationships before where you had told someone you loved them… and they never worked out. You had a rotten judgement for that kind of thing, and by now, you knew you should have learned your lesson, you should have known much better by now than to say it back; but it seemed as if your heart had not learned a thing, and instead, pounded against your ribs in order to try and reach John's, desperate to make contact. You didn't believe in love. There was no possible way you could be in love… but as you looked into his eyes, frozen in the moment, you knew that your heart had made a different choice. You didn't want to say it. You hated the thought of saying it. You hated the thought of telling him that you loved him, of giving him your heart, only for it to turn sour and break, a fine china vase shattered and smashed on the ground. You sighed, biting your lip. Words didn't come so easily, especially when he was in front of you. "I can't tell you properly how wonderful life is now you're in the world, John…" 

He cracked a smile at that, shifting to move off of your lap in favour of sitting beside you, his hands holding yours tightly, blue eyes filled with hope and sweetness and everything sugary and lovely, his heart was soaring already and you had yet to even say the three words back to him; but each time he vanished into your kiss, each time he listened to your heartbeat at night, he loved you more and more, and he didn't need you to say it back, he really didn't, he would love you until the end of time if he could and he would never need you to say the three words because, through everything, through the changing seasons and the storms and the world seeming perfect when you were at his side, he knew that you felt the same for him. "You don't have to say it, honey. You really don't." 

Fuck, his eyes were so easy to get lost in, and the way he held your hands made your heart slow down and steady itself, come what may, you would stay at his side for as long as he would let you, you would make him soup whenever he was sick, you would cuddle him at night and on the sofa during marathons of old films, you would reassure him when his paranoia got bad, you would make him smile and laugh for however long he would allow you to; no chance, no way, you wouldn't say it. You might have swooned a little when you first saw him in the morning, messy hair and just his boxers on, you might have sighed with content every time he kissed your forehead. But you weren't in love. You didn't believe that. That was ancient history. It was too cliché. You wouldn't say it. Your head was screaming at you to get a grip and change the subject, it would only end with you crying your heart out; but you knew that you should face it like an adult and admit it - you had it bad… you needed to give up, you needed to let the scene play, you needed to say it. But you wouldn't. Maybe Mulder was right, maybe you were a stubborn son of a bitch. 

You swallowed thickly, audibly, as you leaned your head back and craned your neck to the side to meet John's awfully blue eyes. Fuck. He made you weak. "John…" 

"Before we, before we started seeing each other, Mulder told me…" John gulped, nervous now to tell you. "He told me about… the past. Your past, and… I get it if you don't want to say it. I don't… I don't need you to." He let go of one of your hands in order to gently cup your jaw. "I don't need you to say anything." 

Fucking Fox. You made a mental note to have some stern words with your best friend when you next saw him. "You're different, though, John, you're… you're good to me, and I… I don't believe in love, or maybe I do, but I can't say it. And I don't want to… but I do." 

He nodded slowly, a reassuring smile on his face as he gently stroked your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "It's okay." 

You sighed, looking at him much the same way a kicked dog would have. "I can't… I can't help loving you, even though I don't believe in it, even though shit's happened, even though… even though my head is telling me to do something else…" you pulled away, chuckling bitterly and sadly, leaning your elbows on your knees and running a hand through your hair. "Every year, the seasons… the seasons may change, y'know, winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, autumn to winter… but at the end of each one… you'll have my heart, John and I'll…" you finally met his gaze again. 

"I'll love you until the end of time?" 

"That…" 

Standing up, John stretched before gently pushing you back against the sofa, and when you looked at him, confused and curious, he simply smiled and kissed your forehead. "I'll be right back." 

Your heart started to pound again, biting and chewing at the corners of your mouth so much that you could taste the small droplets of blood on your tongue, but when he came back, his hands behind his back, you relaxed again. "I'm sorry… sorry I can't tell you that-" 

"It's fine," he reassured, finally showing you the cold can of Red Bull in his hand, he pressed it into yours gently. "I can't stand the stuff." 

"Then why'd you get it?" You asked softly. 

"For the same reason you always keep my favourite beard oil at your place," John smiled, sugary and sweet. "Because I love you." 

You wouldn't say it, you couldn't say it, but knowing that he knew that you did feel the same way he did for you, it took a weight from your shoulders; knowing that he would say it enough for the both of you, it was relieving. And as you rested your head on his shoulder, you cracked open the can. 

"Sure you don't want a swig?" You hummed softly. 

"I'm okay," John told you gently. "I've got more in the fridge… if you wanna spend the day here." 

"Are Langly and Frohike coming over?" You asked quietly. 

"Not that I know of," he answered, his hand finding its way to yours. "You have me all to yourself, if… if you want me." 

"John Fitzgerald Byers," you chuckled. "I always want you." 


End file.
